


Friday I'm in... hell on earth and absolutely not sexually attracted to anyone

by bettydice (BettyKnight)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, M/M, Pining, Snogging, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyKnight/pseuds/bettydice
Summary: "It was Friday night and Draco Malfoy wanted to die. "Potter is infuriating and Draco is suffering and it's NOT because he's at all into Potter in any way, Pansy, so don't even start.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 It was Friday night and Draco Malfoy wanted to die.

Ever since this weekly torture had begun almost a year ago, he had pondered many times why he continued to endure it.  There was an obvious answer to that question that he refused to acknowledge. Thus, his only other option was to return to the place of his suffering, over and over.  Which is why he sat here, in this dingy pub with its sticky floors and watched Harry Potter lick a drop of beer from his lower lip  .  Apparently, saving the world didn’t mean you knew how to drink  properly.  
Potter caught him staring and Draco rushed to make sure his face wore the appropriate kind of scowl - not that he believed Potter capable of distinguishing between Why Are You So  Confusingly  Attractive I Hate It Scowl and You Dirty Peasant Scowl - but better safe than sorry  . As usual, Potter refused to respond to his Scowl in a proper manner and  simply  winked at him.  Draco forgot he was a wizard for a little bit and fantasized about jamming his fork into Potter’s hand for about 20 delicious seconds .

Next to him, Neville guffawed after a joke - no doubt of the basest sort - made by The Weasel. Longbottom didn’t deserve to laugh, filthy traitor. It was his fault after all that Draco found himself in this predicament.  Occasionally  meeting for a hot beverage in the afternoon to discuss a few personal matters after business was one thing, but getting dragged into this nightmare  ?  Because this was Draco’s life now: choosing to go to a questionable establishment which only listed “red” and “white” under “Wine” on its menu and then choosing to drink the swirl surrounded by bloody Gryffindors  .  Clearly  his Mind Healer had been  terribly  wrong when she told him that he was doing much better and that he only needed to contact her when he felt it was a pressing matter. He needed to schedule another appointment soon. Very soon, because he'd  just  caught himself smirking at something Potter said. Or rather, Harry’s smile was so infectious and warm that Draco’s mouth decided to act in kind with no input from his brain.

He’d send an owl to schedule an emergency therapy session as soon as he got home.

Naturally, the evening only proceeded to get worse.

For one happy moment, Draco’s heart grew lighter as Luna appeared at their table. Despite everything, she seemed to like him.  After a while Draco had even come to realise that this peculiar woman didn’t keep appearing in his potion’s shop to ask him questions about ingredients that  were based  in myth rather than reality more often than not  just  because it was another one of those random things she did. No, Luna Lovegood considered Draco a friend.  However, because she was _Luna,_ she didn’t notice that Draco  desperately  needed someone to sit beside him and take his mind off of Potter’s face and instead she sat down across from him in this little booth full of Gryffindors and regret.  So Luna occupied the spot the person responsible for Draco’s inability to relax had  just  deserted to do whatever, it’s not like Draco cared. And then. Potter returned and  simply. Sat down. Next to Draco. Cutting off his easy escape route. With his warm, hard body.

Draco wanted to die.

 

* * *

“Do you see this? Here, his knee is  clearly  pressing into mine while he’s talking to Neville. The bench is full, yes, but it’s not that crowded  as to  justify this amount of physical contact. So, I have to assume that the knee touching was intentional on his part.  However  \- “

A pillow hit the back of his head and Draco  furiously  swivelled around to  viciously  stare at Pansy, the insidious pillow thrower.  Before he could ask her what the fuck she thought she was doing, she threw her hands in the air,  freshly  painted nails glittering very  distractingly .

“Ooooooooooooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck noooooooooo, stop! Please, stooooop.”  Pansy  wildly  gestured at the silvery image of last night’s pub meetup hovering above Draco’s Pensieve. “Yes, Draco, the extended knee touching means Potter wants to bone you. He wants to stick his fat cock up you-”

With a flick of his wand the pillow flew right back at Pansy, which she somehow managed to dodge at the last moment.

“This is not what this is about! I don’t want him to… I have no sexual intentions  regarding  Potter!” Even Draco had to admit that he didn’t sound quite sincere.

“Oh no? Then why do I have to listen to you analyze EVERY FUCKING SECOND of every moment you two are in the same room? Do you know how fucking BORED I am? Nothing happened yesterday, nobody even got drunk!  And now you’re trying to tell me that this is not about you finally fulfilling your 5th year fantasy of Harry pressing you against a wall and deep throating you into oblivion?”

The pillow zoomed towards Draco but this time he  was prepared  and caught it with the speed and elegance befitting a seeker of his skill.  The maneuver gave him time to try to control the blush threatening to conquer his cheeks at the image of Potter on his knees, needy, lips swollen and wet and -  “It’s not about that, Pansy!”

“So that _is_ one of your fantasies, you admit it.”

“Not the point, Parkinson! This is not… I’m  simply  analyzing everything in the context of… well, you know how Potter is. One misstep and the Auror’s come knocking at my door. I have a business to run, I can’t risk damaging my reputation!”

Draco allowed himself to direct a smug smirk at Pansy after this very convincing argument but she  simply  started giggling  hysterically .

“Oh, Draco, my darling. If it wasn’t so painful your denial would be endearing!”

 “I’m not-” “One. No, I don’t ‘know how Potter is’, because _I’m_ not obsessed with him!”  Before Draco could inform her of the fact that he did not appreciate her quotation mark gesture, Pansy continued her ludicrous monologue. ”Two. The guy isn’t even an Auror, you said he was a Curse Breaker.  Please  just  spare me any further suffering and drop your pants in front of him and ask him to lift the curse on your arsehole with his cock.”

For the first time in his life, Draco experienced the curious sensation of his mouth turning bone dry at the same time as it was flooding with saliva. While Pansy’s crude imagery offended him to the core, he also couldn’t help picturing… He couldn’t help picturing.

“I’ll have you know, there is nothing cursed about my arse.” Draco stood a little straighter to emphasize the perfect shape he was in, top to bottom, thank you very much. “In fact, Potter would  be blessed, _blessed,_ to even get to look at my arse!”  Somehow, his passionate words didn’t have the desired effect on Pansy who  just  started up her annoying giggling again while getting up from his chaise lounge. “Of course, sweetie. Anyway, I’ve done my nails, I’ve  witnessed  your spiral back into Potter obsession,  I think  I’m ready to take my leave now.”

She kissed the air above his cheek - at least she was smart enough to not rub her dark lipstick all over his skin again - and then sauntered over to his fireplace.  Draco almost lost his so far impeccable composure and asked her to stay, there were still about 30 minutes he hadn’t analyzed yet after all, but he managed to hold it back.

“I’m not obsessed!”

Pansy only waved without turning back to him as she sprinkled floo powder and stepped into the fire.

“And I don’t want to pursue a carnal relationship with him!”

Pansy was already gone, but he could swear that even the picture he had of her on his mantle was laughing at him and his futile insistence that he didn’t want Potter to fuck the living daylights out of him .

“I hate you,” he told Pansy’s photograph and then turned around to his Pensieve again. It’s not like Pansy was ever any help with this anyway.  It’s  just  that… Potter had put his hand on his thigh when he got up to go to the loo and he’d squeezed,  _ deliberately  _ squeezed Draco’s leg, and  maybe  there was even a certain amount of _lingering_ and Draco  really  needed someone else to tell him that that had indeed happened and he wasn’t imagining things.

“I hate you”, he told Harry’s smiling face hovering above the Pensieve. He’d stop thinking about Potter now.  He’d take a hot bath and very  determinedly  _not think about Harry Potter_ and his strong thighs and how he wanted to lick his way up those legs until he reached that  indubitably  glorious cock and… 

Maybe  a cold shower.  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was Friday again and Draco Malfoy anticipated wanting to die soon. The familiar feeling hadn’t set in yet only because so far, no one else had shown up. The mortification of looking like someone who’d been stood up paled in comparison to being in Potter’s presence, surrounded by Gryffindor’s. Also, Draco had gotten very used to sitting alone in places, receiving side-long stares.

If there really was no one showing up (they probably all cancelled and no one thought to inform him), he’d just eat his dinner in peace without running in danger of having to look at stupid Harry Potter with his stupid face full of glasses and scars and smiles.

He’d just settled in with the only passable thing on the menu (steak pie) and a glass of less than passable red wine when the second worst thing happened: Ron Weasley entered the pub, alone. And instead of doing the only sensible and frankly polite thing of ignoring Draco, he sat down across from him. Draco couldn’t even complain in his head, he’d certainly done his fair share of terrible things in life so that things like these were mild inconveniences he should probably be grateful to suffer.

“Malfoy.”

“Weasley.”

“I see no one else has made it.”

“Nothing escapes your sharp wit and supernatural eyesight.”

Weasley furrowed his unkempt brows and a couple of very tense seconds followed, where Draco waited for Weasley to start yelling at him about all his shortcomings in life. But that never happened.

“Do you... Want to punch me? Neville found it cathartic I think.” Draco cleared his throat, desperately trying to keep his voice unaffected. “Cleared the air between us. And broke my nose.”

“Good.”

He didn’t feel the need to mention that Neville had apparently aimed for his eye and that he’d apologise profusely and only admitted to feelings of catharsis after stopping the blood and righting the nose.

“So... Do you?”  
  
“That’s kind of Hermione’s thing.”  
  
Draco hid a laugh behind a scoff. “Touché.”  
  
“Hermione said she calls you Draco now. ”

“She does.”

That had maybe been the most difficult part of what Pansy had dubbed The Great Draco Malfoy Apology Tour. _Arse-Licking Tour_ when she was feeling bitchy.  
Hermione’s name had been further down the list and he hadn’t anticipated running into her in a tiny bookstore at the edge of Diagon Alley in front of the shelf that held books entirely dedicated to the various uses and possible magical properties of Abraxan dung. Because it was the  kind of place you didn’t run into _anyone._ And maybe he’d panicked then - not that he’d ever admit it. An entirely unpleasant experience he usually avoided at all cost, to be thrown into a situation he couldn’t predict the outcome of and not having worked out at least 5 different ways to handle it.  
That particular encounter hadn’t made Hermione take up addressing him on a first name basis... That came later, after the fifth.

Bizarrely enough, apologizing to Ron Weasley had been easier. Well, not  _easy._ But less fraught with complicated feelings. Weasley had shrugged and declared that this changed nothing, and Draco had been weirdly relieved. Then there’d be no need to think about what it meant to have a _different_ relationship with Weasley.  
Until the pub. And even then, Draco mostly stayed quiet and didn’t talk to people other than Neville and maybe Luna.

And now here was sitting, alone with the Weasel, and they were _talking._ It was frankly disturbing.

“So you’re also into... Books?”

“If you want to put it that way.” Draco had to suppress a sarcastic comment and instead chose something that didn’t come naturally to him: share something about himself. “Developing new potions requires a surprising amount of research.”

“Right.” Weasley’s face showed the same struggle Draco was going through. To quench the desire of insulting the other and say something polite if not genuine. “Is that… Going well for you?”

“It’s going well enough. Granger didn’t mention anything?”

“She might have... I may not have listened.” Then, after a beat. " _Granger?_ "

Draco quickly took a bite of his pie to give himself some time to think of and dismiss several answers, most with an unhealthy dose of sarcasm. He swallowed the bite and the sarcasm and called upon years of therapy and personal growth to go with the uncomfortable and honest answer.

“I haven’t... earned it yet.”

Ron looked at him intently for several seconds and Draco had the sudden urge to fake a terrible illness and excuse himself. After ignoring each other for the most part of the last couple of years, being at the receiving end of Weasley’s stare, the one he undoubtedly used every day as a tactician for the Aurors, supervising operations, assessing threats... It’s a good thing he already had anxiety or he’d surely started developing it now.  
Weasley’s assessment of him ended with a short nod and Draco was able to stop the death grip he’d had on his fork as soon as those eyes stopped boring into him. He wondered what they’d seen, and he cursed his mind healer, just for a second, that she’d convinced him that ‘hiding behind masks’ and ‘suppressing emotions’ were not necessarily healthy coping mechanisms during stressful social interactions. Of course, at the time _every_ social interaction had been stressful, even terrifying, for him and she may have had a point. But now he felt exposed as if all his weaknesses had been laid out for Weasley to pick over because Draco had spent so much time dismantling his own walls they weren’t readily accessible anymore.

“You may call me Weasley.”

Draco stared at the man who was actually extending his hand towards him. And grinning. It was most confusing.

“Weasley. You may call me... Draco.” He took the hand and couldn’t help a grin himself as Weasley squeezed with unnecessary force.

“Don’t count on it, Malfoy. Maybe when I’m drunk.”

His hand was released and Weasley excused himself to the loo, leaving Draco to deflate in his seat and wondering what the bloody fuck just happened.  
They hadn’t even exchanged many words and yet he felt as exhausted as though he’d lived through a 5-hour questioning (and he knew what that felt like). He was sweating, too. He murmured a freshening up charm and then turned the surface of his knife into a mirror for a second so he could check whether his inner turmoil had escaped other than via his sweat ducts. His face was flushed, but he supposed he could put that down due to the stuffy pub and the wine. Not that he’d had much yet.

Weasley took his time and returned with a plate of chips that he began stuffing into his face immediately. Now they’d had their ‘heart to heart’, Draco wasn’t sure what to talk about but Weasley seemed perfectly content to eat his chips in peace. That was all right with him, it provided him with the opportunity to finish his own meal and then surely they’d both be amenable to part ways.

Naturally, things didn’t turn out that way.

With only one third of his chips and Draco’s nerves left, Weasley suddenly perked up and waved to someone across the room. Maybe... Ron would be whisked away by someone else or...  
_Potter_ plopped down on the bench next to Weasley, put his arm around his friend’s shoulders and casually helped himself to some chips. In the Gryffindor way: without asking.  
Of course. _Of course,_  after quality personal time with the Weasel, the only thing more excruciating would be being the third wheel to Potter and Weasley.

He’d never get used to the easy way with which these two were touching each other. The other Gryffindors were like that as well - maybe to a lesser extent. Or maybe _everyone_ was like that. Blaise certainly came to mind. Maybe _Draco_ was the exception, not understanding how they just initiated physical contact without thinking. Closeness. Intimacy.

Now that he’d shed so many of his layers (Pureblood. Death eater. Infallible.) in the search of what he was without years of prejudice, cruelty and fucking stupid mistakes, some of which were literally branded into his skin, he couldn’t just... Touch.  
Maybe it was because there was not _one_ person where he felt justified to presume that his touch was welcome. Pansy would hug him, _embrace him_ even but between them Draco had only held onto her when he was breaking apart and he didn’t know how to initiate ‘casual’. He was not a _casual_ person.

Which is why Potter touching people all the time irked him so much. How was he supposed to deduct whether it meant something when Potter leaned in close or pressed his thigh against his leg or if it was just how the bespectacled buffoon waved around his limbs?

For someone like the boy hero (though Draco was painfully aware that neither of them were boys anymore and that Potter had _grown up_ ) it was probably unimaginable that someone would not welcome his touch, might even be repulsed by it. Potter, after all, was someone whose mark only designated him as a hero, as someone wholly good.  
Draco had a few scars of his own that proved that Potter wasn’t entirely so but somehow it seemed fitting that he was keeping that secret for the other on his body. The day when he’d stopped being resentful of that fact and when he realised that he sort of liked the cruel irony and that he’d do much more if it meant being able to look at this relaxed, _happy_ Potter from the pub, he knew he was lost.  
However, his feelings were simply another thing he’d keep secret. He barely tolerated _thinking_ the fact, he’d never utter it out loud. Not that he’d ever have a reason to.

“Potter. Late as always.”  
  
“I’m a busy man, Malfoy!” Weasley let out an undignified snort at that (not that there was such a thing as a _dignified_ snort) and Potter shot him an irritated glance. “I was out doing my job, yeah? Curse breaking?”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure Mrs Crogglesworth’s teapot couldn’t be kept waiting.”  
  
“No one wants a face full of piping hot tea, it was indeed urgent. She also gave me some cranberry scones as a parting gift, so if you want any of those... “  
  
“Alright, alright! I apologise, a very busy and important man indeed! Please, help yourself to the last of my chips, you must be starved after such a dangerous mission.”  
  
Then they both grinned and Draco felt not only third wheeled at full force but also as though he was missing some vital context.

Was Weasley just joking or was Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, running around fixing mildly cursed household items? While that would explain how Harry was able to join their weekly gatherings despite the notoriously busy and country-leaving schedule of a Curse Breaker this would put a damper on some of Draco’s favorite... scenarios.  
Leather-clad Potter, sweaty and bloody in a subtle and arousing way, gratefully accepting a very special potion that healed an injury and then coming closer and getting on his knees to swallow... A very special potion. It never failed to get Draco... excited.  
Now, too, unfortunately and he awkwardly shifted in his seat trying to signal to his cock that now was _not a good time._ The worst time, actually.

“I thought...” Draco bit his lip to stop himself from voicing his confusion. There was no need to show that not only was he not entirely sure what Potter was up to but worse, that he was actually very much interested.  
  
“Mhm?” Potter turned his attention from food to Draco and he was smiling and handsome and it was annoying and terribly unfair.  
  
“Nothing, please continue stuffing your face.”  
  
“I’m sure it’s not. Nothing.”  
  
Potter kept looking at him and Draco finally caved just so he would stop.  
  
“I merely am marveling at the fact that _Harry Potter_ would step down from his pedestal to bother with something as pedestrian as helping an old lady with her teapot. “He carefully included a tiny amount of a sneer in his answer. “I’d have thought someone like you would have no problem keeping their schedule chock full of intricate curses to break. Did you do something rash and aggravate your superiors?”  
  
Instead of responding with any kind of irritation, Potter stayed calm and simply smirked at him, which irritated Draco. Weasley continued to be annoying and snickered into his beer-type beverage.  
Potter leaned closer and his smirk turned into a smile that could almost be described as ‘soft’ and _Merlin’s unkempt beard_ he really needed to finish his food and get the bloody fuck out of here.  
  
“I guess you don’t know. Sorry, usually people just _know_ things about me since apparently my life is common knowledge.”  
  
“As if I would believe anything the _Prophet_ writes about you”, Draco scoffed. Harry’s smile definitely fell into the ‘soft’ category now. Did it sound like Draco was reading every article that mentioned Potter in some sort of masochistic need to see some grainy pictures of the other’s face (which he did) or that he had a running commentary in his mind of “Harry would never do that” while he read another gossipy article (which he also did)?  
  
“Harry, even if the _Prophet_ knows about what you _actually_  do, it’s probably too boring to make a story out of it”, Ron grinned.  
  
“Hey now, I burned my pinky on the teapot today!” He wiggled the injured finger which did look painfully red on the side and Draco sighed, rummaged in his bag and then handed Harry a tiny flask with some salve.  
  
“Use this.”  
  
Potter only stared at him as though Draco had just told him that contrary to popular belief unicorns simply were horses which liked to wear costumes.  
  
“It’s ointment. Medicinal salve.” The Boy Who Lived To Be Dense continued staring and Draco grabbed his wrist, pulled it across the table, uncorked the vial and then started applying the paste.  
  
“Oh.” How anyone ever adored this verbally challenged buffoon was beyond Draco and how anyone ever fell inconveniently in possibly love with the shaggy hair and the ugly glasses and the unnecessarily ripped jeans that showed off a glimpse of a muscled thigh for no bloody reason other than to piss off Draco with unwanted arousal... Inconceivable.  
  
“Honestly, Potter. Isn’t it part of the basic curse breaker training to learn a few simple healing spells?” He tried not to focus on how good it felt to massage the salve and to _hold his hand_ or how Potter seemed to be suddenly flushed in the face and it made him look _even softer_ and it was easy to imagine other situations that might bring forth a similar flush on his face.  
  
“I’m pants at those”, Harry mumbled because the same healing classes he skipped out on probably taught how to enunciate. “Thanks Malfoy.”  
  
Draco knew there was no reason now to continue holding on to Harry’s hand but he found it difficult to let go, especially because Harry made no move to withdraw and Draco really wished he would because now they were making eye contact and if he wasn’t careful he’d do something incredibly stupid like stroke the back of his hand or-  
  
“Come to my shop next week, I’ll prepare a batch of salve for you.”  
  
“Oh, okay, yeah, sure! I mean, that’d be great but…”  
  
“  _Ugh._  ” Draco finally let go of Harry’s hand, not wanting to have him feel how his heart had sped up at the eager look on Harry’s face. “It’s just because I clearly can’t count on you to stop hurting yourself and I don’t want you to drip your sacred saviour blood all over an unsuspecting old lady’s furniture.”  
  
Either Weasley had respiratory issues, or he was snorting, again. Draco ignored him.  
  
“Anyway, yeah, I suppose I’m not exactly travelling the world, breaking dangerous curses and having adventures. I’m more of a... Well I’m not exactly doing contracts or work for someone, it’s more of a freelancing situation, really, sort of, you know?”  
  
“No, I don’t _know_ because you’ve failed to state your occupation in a manner anyone can understand.”  
  
“Harry means that he occasionally goes to the Curse Breaker offices and looks at the supposedly harmless ones no one wants to do and then helps people with their slightly cursed heirlooms.”  
  
The sheepish smile on Harry’s face confirmed Weasley’s words as the boner crushing truth.  
  
“But you’re _Harry Potter!_ ”  
  
Two sets of eyebrows shot up at Draco’s outburst.  
  
“Yes, I am. Observant as ever. You caught me!”  
  
“I mean…“ What about the leather coat and the strategically ripped shirt and the appealing smudges of dirt? “Aren’t you bored?”  
  
“Can’t believe Malfoy thinks the same as I do.”  
  
“Not really,” Harry shrugged. “I do enjoy helping people but I’ve found I’ve had enough danger to last a lifetime.”  
  
The way he said it and the way he shot a glance at Weasley, it seemed like maybe there was more to the story than Harry just reveling in the simpler things in life (and curses) but he assumed that it wasn’t anything that would be told to _Draco Malfoy_.  
  
“I… Fair enough. You deserve to do what makes you happy. Out of anyone...” Again, words left his mouth before his brain had fully approved them. He blamed the wine. And Harry’s stupid face.  
  
“Oh.” Harry might not be eloquent but maybe he’d never needed to be because his face was just so bloody expressive. His cheeks were flushed again but somehow in a different way than before. “Thank you, Malfoy.”  
  
Draco met the mistake of meeting Harry’s gaze and then he could not look away, caught by those green eyes that were shining in a way that made it terribly easy to see all sorts of emotions in them. Harry didn’t look away either, and he wished for something to happen so one of them would _stop_ because his heart couldn’t handle this.  
  
“Beautifully said, _Draco.”_ Stupid Weasley with his stupid grin and his stupid words. Potter’s head whipped around and then he was gaping, looking from his best friend who was grinning like a maniac to Draco, who tried to cast a wordless itchy crotch hex on Ron.

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me. Someone ate my fries and I’m quite tired.” Weasley had the audacity to fake a yawn as he got up and squeezed his way past a stunned Potter.  
  
“Wait! ‘Draco’? When did _that_ happen?” Potter shouted after his best friend (who was snickering as he walked out) which gave Draco the opportunity to vanish the last bit of his food and then take a large gulp of the shit wine to empty his glass.  
  
“Yes, well, I should take my leave as well. It is getting... Long day, you understand.”

Draco hastily collected his things and stormed off before Harry could gather his wits or his cloak.  
  
Outside, he rushed to the next corner, dove into a side street and then leaned against a brick wall to regain his breath. As soon as Weasley had sat down across from him Draco had lost his footing and he hadn’t stopped dangling above a terrifying abyss of emotions and hasty answers ever since. Why was Harry Potter doing this to him?

“Draco?” Potter’s voice came from way too close. _Of course_  he followed him.

Bollocks.


	3. Chapter 3

 

  

Draco desperately needed time to collect himself but there was no collecting anything other than panic and sexual frustration when Potter was around.  
  
"Did you follow me." He couldn't even bother to put any sneer in, he just sounded defeated.   
  
"You seemed... I was worried..."   
  
"I'm obviously perfectly fine, what would you be worried about."   
  
"Then why did you flee the pub and why are you standing here, practically hyperventilating"   
  
He was not. Quite. Not quite.   
  
"I'm not doing any of those things. Maybe your lack of professional adventure leads you to see things that aren't there. I'm simply enjoying the fresh November air."   
  
Potter was too obtuse to notice his shaking hands and the sweat on his forehead, right?   
  
Potter stepped closer, the absolute twat, so close that Draco had the unfortunate joy of seeing Harry's breath in the air and how it mingled with his own.   
  
And Potter... Did actually look worried.   
  
"Did Ron say something to you? Something... That upset you? Or..."   
  
“What? Weasley? How could he ever upset me?”   
  
“Or... Well... ” Harry chewed on his lower lip in a disgusting and distracting manner.   
  
“Out with it Potter.”   
  
“Why is he calling you ‘Draco’?"

“Huh?”

“Everyone is on first name basis with you now... Except for me! Ron! I can't. And you didn't apologise _to me_ ! I know that you went to everyone and talked to them and stuff. Why not me? I'd have thought... Do you dislike me that much? That you have to run away when it's just the two of us? After _Ron_ gets to call you Draco?”   
  
Draco stared at Potter, pressed against the wall by the rightful fury Potter exuded as though he was back in school, fighting evil again.   
  
"But I did. Apologise. You were the first... I sent you a letter."   
  
“That doesn't count! It only said _‘I'm deeply sorry. DM’_ . What am I supposed to do with that?”   
  
Again, Draco stared, speechless. Sure, his letter hadn't been elaborate but he was still stunned that Harry had remembered even those few words. He had spent days agonizing, writing and rewriting. The first draft had covered several feet of parchment, written in Gryffindor red (which had turned out to be a terrible mistake because it ended up looking as though it was written in blood). The end had become unreadable because of tear drops. He'd set it on fire.   
There was a _‘Draco gets absolutely shit faced and offers Potter sexual favors in order to repent’_ draft. Burned. _‘So, I did some shitty things but it's not like you've been polite?’_ Burned.   
  
"I didn't want to make excuses. There are none." Draco dropped his head against the brick wall and closed his eyes. He was anxious to get out of here. He'd been stripped bare after being all fucking honest with Weasley and talking to Potter in this state seemed like a really fucking bad idea. Dangerous. He couldn't even muster up the will to be snarky when all he wanted was to be someone that Potter looked at with softness.   
  
"But... I understand why you... We were both too young and scared and manipulated. It's -"   
  
" _Don't_ . Don't understand. Don't compare. Maybe it seems like I had no choice to you but I assure you, I've made plenty and most of them for horrible reasons. So don't lower yourself to my level and be _understanding._ "   
  
He opened his eyes to narrow them at Potter, only to find him standing so close he could feel the heat radiating off Potter. He looked ready to fight him to prove his inane point.   
  
"Draco..." Potter moved forward and since he was already bloody inhaling Draco and Draco was pressed against a wall, this meant that Potter, _Harry,_ was now pressing against him, chest to knee, suffocating Draco both with his body and his nobility and it all was too much like a twisted version of one of his fantasies. Draco shoved Potter at the same time that buffoon with no understanding of personal space realised that he'd made their crotches touch and jumped away.   
  
"Sorry, I'm-"   
  
"Attacking other people with your well-meaning and goodness and physical proximity. I'm used to it. But you don't have to bother. I'm not in school anymore and I don't need to bring you down to feel better about myself. I know what I did and what I did _wrong_ and if I explain myself to you I'll be craving your absolution and that's not something you can or should give and it's not something I can have. So, don't understand. Don't bother being nice. Don't run after me... It'll only... "   
  
Now it was Draco who'd moved into Potter's space, the latter standing frozen. After he’d finished his little monologue, Draco was able to take in the sight before him, which was a mistake. Potter’s breath on his face, his eyes boring into his... Somehow his hand had moved to grip Potter’s arm and... Up close, Potter's skin had a dry patch on his forehead and he really needed to maintain his brows and his lips were cracked and Draco intensely, desperately wanted to kiss him.

Potter always took up so much space in Draco’s perception that he tended to forget that Potter was smaller than him. Not by much, but enough that Harry had to tip his head back a bit to look into his eyes and with his mouth slightly ajar, a stunned expression on his flushed face, it was an image that sent heat coiling through Draco’s guts.   
  
Draco couldn't help the hungry look in his eyes and was vaguely aware that his breath was close to entering panting territory.   
  
"I know what I can't have, Potter."   
  
Harry touched his cheek.   
  
"What..."

Harry's thumb moved. A caress.   
Draco flung himself back against the wall, his skin on fire, his heart exploding.   
  
"What the fuck, Potter?"   
  
This time, instead of apologizing for approaching Draco like a blast ended skrewt, Potter's jaw set with determination and he put his bloody hand back on Draco’s bloody face.   
Those glasses did nothing to contain the sincerity that was sent Draco’s way and his brain packed its trunk and bade farewell.   
  
_Harry Potter_ was holding his face without reason nor explanation and Draco was defenseless and with his back against a literal wall and if Potter were to slice him open with random spells again that would be preferable to this torment.   
  
"Why are you doing this to me?"   
  
Behind him the cold, hard bricks were digging into his shoulders and it only made sense for Draco’s body to strain towards Potter's warmth or maybe it was Potter who did the straining, either way, they were once against pressed together as though squeezed by a giant panini maker.   
Not only did he have Harry Potter's hand on his cheek, he now had fingers gripping his shoulder and his own hand was definitely touching the Chosen One's hip.   
  
"Call me Harry."   
  
"Honestly, your self importance is astounding. Didn't you listen to a word I j-" The rest of his sentence was muffled by Harry's lips.   
  
Harry Potter was kissing him.   
  
Because Draco had no control over anything at the moment, his eyes fell closed, his hands twisted into Harry's sweater and his mouth returned the kiss with enthusiasm.   
  
He'd imagined this countless times but his mind had never conjured anything close to the reality of Harry's hand carding through his hair or his tongue brushing against his lip. His imagination also had never touched upon how he'd _feel._ Arousal, yes, certainly. But most of all, he wanted to cry and never stop. He wanted to keep kissing Harry, have his reassuring weight in his arms while he cried like he'd never cried before.   
  
It must be because of the sudden physical contact. Someone touching him with lust that was easily understood as affection. Potter touched him with an insistent gentleness that broke Draco’s heart. Because now that he had it, he couldn't deny anymore that this is what he was yearning for.   
  
Harry sighed into his mouth, a soft sound that he'd never be able to forget. But it helped Draco regain some of his senses and he knew he needed to stop kissing Potter _now_ , or he'd never be able to stop.   
  
Since his mouth wouldn't stop kissing, he put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed until their lips separated. For a short moment, he saw Harry chasing his mouth, trying to reconnect before he opened his eyes and sent a confused look Draco’s way.   
  
Draco took a step to the side to finally get some space between them. Which was good thinking because Potter immediately moved to stand in the place Draco had inhabited.   
  
"Stop it."   
  
"What... What's wrong?"   
  
"What's wrong? You can't just go around kissing people without permission!"   
  
"Can I kiss you, Draco?" Harry cocked his head, smiled and took Draco’s hand. As if it was a thing they did, holding hands.   
  
"Will you bloody stop that?"   
  
"You don't want this?" Potter had the audacity to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Smirking because it was probably clear as fucking crystal to him that Draco did indeed want this very much, the way he'd returned Potter’s kiss as though this was his dream and there wouldn't be any consequences.   
  
"That's not the point."   
  
"Then what is the point? You want to kiss me. I _really_ want to kiss you. I've been _wanting_ to kiss you. I want to hold your hand." Potter raised it to his mouth again. "Is the point that there's someone else you want to kiss more?" Another kiss to his hand, Draco could only shake his head, eyes wide, undoubtedly looking terrified. "Is the point that you find me insufferable and not hot enough to ignore that?" Another kiss, another head shake. "Then, Draco, may I kiss you?"   


Draco closed his eyes, emptied his brain and then Disapparated.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Call me Harry.  _

The first night he spent reading. If that was the appropriate term for what he did, grabbing the first book he got his hands on and tearing through it, forcing his mind to focus on the words on the page and nothing else. He devoured four books that night and didn’t remember any of them. 

_ Can I kiss you, Draco? _

Saturday was… viscous. As if someone had turned time into treacle and he watched it drizzle from a spoon. That night, he let himself down and followed temptation to his Pensieve. He witnessed Harry kiss him, over and over. Recognised the longing in Harry’s eyes and dismissed it as wishful thinking the next moment. Saw his own face, his utter helplessness, how he unraveled under Harry’s lips, his touch. Saw himself escape. Flee. Run away like the coward he was.

Sunday was spent sprawled on his bed, in and out of shallow sleep disturbed by dreams he didn’t want to remember. He thinks Harry owled him but he’d set the letter on fire and now he’s not sure it really happened. Someone tried to floo him, too, but he’d closed it off to everyone. 

That night, he got pissed off of Firewhisky - the good stuff. And then, he wanked. He took off his clothes, collected all of his toys, all of his lube and settled in on his bed. One night, _one night only_ he’d allow himself to think of everything he wanted to do to Potter, wanted Harry to do to him and  _ fuck _ him out of his system. Maybe that didn’t quite work and maybe he wanted Potter even more now but at least he’d finally fallen into a deep sleep after coming all over his chest while a fake cock was pounding on his prostate. Draco counted it as a win.

_ I've been  _ wanting _ to kiss you. _

Things were better during the week. He could go to his shop and concentrate on his potions and nothing else. Beth, his assistant/sales person/public face of  _ Dragon’s Draughts _ /constant pain in Draco’s arse had taken one look at him and pestered him endlessly and asked stupid questions until he had barricaded himself in his workshop. Everyone just needed to leave him alone until he got rid of this itching in his chest, the terrible want that sat there and tried to compel him to go to Potter. To grab him and kiss him, drop to his knees and suck his cock, card through his hair with his legs around his waist, fall asleep while holding each other, waking up and… None of that bullshit. 

He  _ barely _ thought about it during the day. His work was complex and he was a professional, not easily distracted by… Anything. If there were a batch or two that exploded in his face that was nothing more than the standard risk of a potioneer.

The nights were a bit different but it was better. He’d been an embarrassing mess the past weekend but that was done now. So maybe he spent Wednesday night listening to Celestina Warbeck’s  _ Magic Can’t Mend This Broken Heart _ for several hours but that had nothing to do with anything, the woman was famous for a reason.

Draco had somehow made it through the week and it was Friday and he was determined to not appear at the pub tonight, or ever again. He was surprised and annoyed to find that he still really wanted to go. He'd always pretended that he didn't particularly care for… Any of them. It was easier to play the disgruntled introvert dragged there against his will or better judgment than embrace what he truly felt. Grateful that they even looked at him. That they laughed at his snark and didn't keep reminding him of a time where he used his wit for vicious insults. Not that he looked particularly witty in retrospect, regurgitating what was put in his head without thinking about it at all. 

It had been only a matter of time until he ruined that and went back to talking to no one but Pansy and his assistant. And Blaise, whenever he was in the country. 

And that was enough. It would be.  


He wasn't even sure if he was the one that had ruined things or Potter. Though Potter probably wouldn't have done anything if he didn't get the feeling that Draco was attracted to him. 

A tiny part of him was relieved that he didn't have to suffer through Harry's proximity anymore and the resulting heartache of denying himself. But at the moment, that was overshadowed by a bloody inconvenient desire to snog stupid Harry Potter and fuck him senseless. 

Now that he knew that it was something that was attainable and something Harry even desired, it was hard to remember any of the many reasons it was a terrible idea. 

It didn't help that he couldn't actually find an argument against the fact that if he really was gonna go back to being a crazy hermit potioneer then he might as well shag Potter first. 

However, none of these thoughts helped or were in any way productive. Which meant that Draco hadn’t slept in a week. Which was, of course, an overdramatic statement but he considered it justified because he certainly felt like it. He spooned enough sugar to bake a cake into his coffee and ignored the tiny voice in his head that wanted to inform him that caffeine wouldn't mix well with the Pepper Up potion he'd taken earlier. The voice that sounded alarmingly like Hermione Granger, of all people to be talking to Draco in his head. This is what he had been reduced to - gurgling sugar with coffee and hearing the disembodied voices of  _ Potter’s _ friends. 

It’s preferable though, he thought, to hearing Potter’s voice. 

_ Can I kiss you, Draco? _

A full-body shudder overtook him which he decided to attribute to his disgusting drink and not to the stupid berk haunting his thoughts. He’d made his decision, it was done. He only needed a few days, possibly months and a couple more evenings with his toys and the name Potter wouldn’t ever cross his mind again. 

Draco grimaced as he took another sip from his coffee. His life had been easier when he was better at deluding himself.

A sharp rap on the door disrupted his misery.

“Beth, I told you I was bloody busy! It’s none of your bloody business if you think that I'm loosing my grip on reality!”

Staring at a wall for 10 minutes while trying to force down the most disgusting beverage ever created certainly counted as being ‘busy’.

“I know, Mr. Malfoy!” She only called him that when there was a difficult, potentially rich, client. He did not have the mental capacity to deal with that right now! “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but Mr. … someone insists on talking to you.”

Draco opened the door just enough that he could see half of Beth’s face - her expression too excited for the circumstances - and glare at her with one eye.

“Just tell them to come back next week.”

“It seems urgent.”   
  
“Say I’m not here!” Honestly, why did he even have an assistant if she couldn’t even stop people from interacting with him.

“Uhm, you clearly are though, Dra-... Mr. Malfoy!”

Oh, Merlin’s hairy arse crack! Draco yanked open the door completely so he could convey his irritation at Beth with his entire body only to freeze when he saw who this visitor was, standing a few feet behind Beth with the audacity to look amused instead of embarrassed, ashamed or unattractive. Of course. Of course!

“Hey.” Potter _ smiled _ at him. The nerve!

Draco looked from Potter to Beth and almost recoiled at the look on her face. She looked like the personification of Witch Weekly’s gossip column (which he was not familiar with at all!) and no way was he going to do… whatever was about to happen under her nosy eyes.

“Fine. Step inside, Potter,” Draco said because he was weak and Potter was  _ here _ and he hadn’t slept. He turned around and busied himself with cleaning and putting away his mug until he heard the door click shut. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect himself despite the panic bubbling in his chest before he turned around and faced Potter. Now that they were alone in a room together, he looked less amused and even a certain amount of uncomfortable - his cheeks flushed and clearly not knowing where to park his body.

Draco gestured towards two chairs that occupied one corner of his workshop he used for when a client insisted on talking to him or (which happened more often) for when Pansy showed up to remind him to have lunch on occasion. 

“Tea? Coffee?” Draco might be close to hyperventilating and possibly throwing up but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t keep up proper manners. 

“What? Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks, mate.”  _ Mate _ . Draco stared at Potter and slowly raised one eyebrow, a move he’d spent ages perfecting and now he used it to great effect as Potter visibly cringed. “I mean… Erm... “ Potter coughed and rubbed the back of his neck, so obviously nervous that it calmed Draco's nerves in turn. He needed to use this moment to gain the upper hand, the only way he’d make it through this.

Draco sat down on the chair opposite Potter and gave him an obvious once over. He’d planned to do that while casually leaning against the wall but his legs felt shaky and he didn’t want to risk losing his balance. Instead, he crossed his legs and rested his folded hands on his knee, drawing attention to his legs which nobody could deny looked fabulous even when they were not at full capacity. Harry looked… as though he’d put in effort. A dress shirt, jeans without holes and what looked like brand new sneakers? The implications were worrying.

“I’m surprised you own a shirt with buttons.” Draco smirked when Potter reacted as expected at being caught and smoothed his shirt with hopefully sweaty and shaking hands. “Anyway, how can I help you, Potter?”

“Harry.” Potter looked straight at him, jaw pushed forward, clearly determined to _ruin_ Draco.

“I assume you’re here to collect the healing salve. My assistant is perfectly able to handle that, she’ll provide you with anything you need.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Draco.” Ugh, why did his name sound so good on Potter’s tongue. 

“Well. I don’t think we have anything else to discuss,  _ Potter. _ ” Draco just needed to keep his wits about for a few minutes and then surely, Harry would give up and leave. He waved one hand in the general direction of the door, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

“I talked to Hermione, I’m prepared. Do your worst.”

“Herm- … what does Hermione Granger have to do with anything?” Draco was legitimately confused, which was bad for keeping the upper hand and all. He shouldn’t ask any questions, he shouldn’t do anything that encouraged Harry to talk instead of get his arse out of here. Oh great, now Potter was _smirking,_ this was going terribly.

“You wouldn’t expect it but she can be very insightful when it comes to dating advice.”

“Dating…” Draco practically choked on the word and it took him several seconds of fake coughing to recover. Potter leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself while Draco started developing full-body shivers.

“Yeah, she made a list of concerns you might have about us dating and how I should best broach the topic without making you Disapparate mid-snogging. There was a chart.”

Harry laughed at him as though they were discussing…  _ literally anything else, _ what the bloody fuck was happening? 

“Huh?” was all that came out of Draco’s mouth. Were his ears sweating?

“She said I need to be clear about my intentions and apparently that means more than just being very obvious about my physical attraction to you.” 

“Huh.” There was a high possibility of this all being a Pepper Up - caffeine - sugar induced hallucination because Potter smiling at him while talking about  _ dating _ and _ intentions _ didn’t seem possible in any realm other than a feverish dreamscape. Harry scooted his chair closer until his knee was touching Draco’s thigh and that felt _real._ Why.

“So, I really want to kiss you again.” Harry kept holding eye contact and Draco wasn’t sure he remembered how to blink. Was it an automatic thing or did he need to consciously move his lids?

“I also want to have dinner with you, walk and hold hands and a lot of really mundane things that I’m not gonna list, you get the idea, yeah?” While his cheeks flushed anew, Harry refused to look away and placed one of his hands on his knee so that his fingers brushed Draco’s leg.

“You want to  _ date _ me.” Oh, he was able to form a sentence, thank Merlin.

“I also really want to fuck you.” 

“ _ Hrk. _ ” Draco needed another round of coughing, convinced that Potter was literally trying to kill him. It was a devious way to go about things and he’d admire him for it if he wasn’t so busy choking to death. This couldn’t continue, he couldn’t let Potter barge in here and pretend like he’d had it all figured out. Draco waited until his breathing had evened out and then narrowed his eyes at Potter which immediately diminished his smugness. Good. 

"Alright, I’m attracted to you, too. There’s no point denying that.” Draco held up one hand as Harry opened his mouth to reply. “Let me talk.”

Harry pointedly pressed his lips together, arching one eyebrow at Draco in a movement that eerily looked like Draco’s signature eyebrow raise. How dare he!

“We don’t need to date to  _ fuck. _ You don’t have to do any of this,” he waved his hand between them. “You don’t have to go through the motions of basic courtship just so you can get your cock inside me. We can go to my flat, right now, fuck and then be done with it.”

Blood rushed in his ears, what the fuck had he just said. Did he actually mean that? He had no bloody clue, maybe he'd suffered brain damage from the potion or the coffee. There was no way to take it back now though, so he just jerked his head at Potter, signalling that he was allowed to talk again and held his breath as he waited for Potter to rise to the challenge. Or flee. Either was fine. However, instead of rushing to respond or grabbing him so they could start shagging, Harry mustered him with a slight frown as he thought about his answer. Draco finally averted his eyes, exhaling heavily through his nose as nausea began to spread through his stomach. 

“Draco. Look at me.” Harry’s voice was calm and soft and Draco knew with sudden clarity that Potter had won. Whatever Harry wanted to do, Draco would follow. Fingers gently closed around his right hand that he hadn’t even realised was balled into a fist. He looked back at Harry and hoped he didn’t look half as scared as he felt. 

“I’m not here just for… it’s not a casual thing.” Harry slowly uncurled Draco’s fingers and then intertwined their fingers. Draco didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, laugh, heave or everything at the same time.

“I’m not a casual person.” 

“I know that much.” Harry laughed, his entire face lighting up and the part of Draco that wasn’t absolutely bewildered at what was happening decided that he could do that too, laugh. Harry moved their interlocked hands into his lap, pulling Draco closer in the process and leaning forward himself until their faces were as close as back in the alley. Draco’s breath hitched again - his body never sure whether it should cease breathing entirely or start hyperventilating. 

“Now, I can get out The List and we can see whether Hermione managed to accurately predict all of your concerns and I’ll reassure you that I’ve taken everything into consideration and still want to do this. Or we could…,” Harry’s glanced at his lips at the same at as his tongue darted out to wet his own. Draco tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, swallowing hard. “Or we could  _ do this. _ ”

Draco closed the final distance between them and  _ kissed Harry.  _

For a few seconds, their lips were barely moving, tenderly resting against each other. It seemed that Harry was careful not to trigger Draco’s flight response via enthusiastic snogging again and was happy to let Draco set the tempo. Leave it to Potter to discover consideration when it was not needed anymore.

If they were going to do this, then they were going to do this properly!

Draco untangled his hand from Potter’s, ignoring his confused whine, pushed him against the backrest and then climbed on Potter’s lap, running his hands through Potter’s unruly hair as he crashed their lips together once more.

After a moment of confused hesitation, Harry finally began kissing him with the same intensity he’d shown in the alley (and in Draco’s fantasies). Draco ground down on his lap, encouraging Harry to throw his  _ entire _ body into this kiss and groaned when it was clear that they were both growing hard, quickly. 

Harry sucked his lower lip between his teeth, gave it a playful nip that sent shudders down his spine and then their tongues were sliding against each other and there was no going back now. There’d only be  _ more. _

Warm hands slipped under his shirt and stroked over his stomach, his waist, his back. Draco moaned his enthusiasm and doubled down on the grinding, hands still gripping and possibly pulling Harry’s hair. His cock was fully hard now, pulsing against the fly of his trousers and he was pretty confident it was the same for Harry. But to get to their cocks, he’d have to move his hands, maybe break the kiss and he couldn’t do either of those things. 

Harry found his left nipple during his exploration and commemorated the occasion by pinching it, making Draco arch his back in a shameless plea for more. 

Harry kept pinching and rubbing his nipple as he changed the angle of his hips in a way that made them both groan, panting against each other, not quite kissing but not quite stopping, either.

“You’re… Draco,” Harry pulled back a little to share this pointless observation. Before Draco could yell at him to shut up and get back to snogging, he caught the look on Harry’s face. Harry looked at him with _wonder,_ as if having a lap full of writhing Draco Malfoy was something to be in awe of. Draco simply nodded, unable to look away and moved one hand so it rested on Harry’s throat, stroking the skin above his pulse. 

Without warning, Harry jerked and shuddered underneath him, mouth falling open as he  _ came in his pants  _ and Draco barely waited until Potter was done before he pulled him back into a kiss and shoved Harry’s hand down against his crotch, thrusting against it as he chased his own orgasm, lost in Harry’s smell, his touch, his everything, incredible pressure building until he crested, thick ropes of come messing up his pants. 

They sat there for a while, panting heavily. Draco had basically collapsed against Harry’s chest, all strength had left his body along with the tension and he felt like he could finally sleep now, Harry’s arms around his body, gently stroking him. Maybe he’d just close his eyes for a little, while they rested.

Just for a moment...

 


	5. Chapter 5

Draco woke in a strange room, in a strange bed. He didn’t know what day or time it was or how he got here. But he couldn’t even freak out about that too much because it was of utmost importance for now to be panicking about the fact that _Harry Potter was sitting next to him on the bed._ While his first instinct was to yell at Potter and demand explanations for this egregious case of kidnapping, he thankfully remembered the previous events before he could further embarrass himself. He concluded that Harry had brought - carried? Apparated? - him home after he’d… Oh fuck, he’d passed out on Potter after dry-humping him and coming in his pants. Regret rushed through him, only to be replaced by shame as he slowly slid a finger under his waistband and found that someone must’ve performed a cleaning spell on him. 

Mortified, Draco didn't know what to do. He didn't exactly _want_ to flee and never see Harry again, because he'd tried that and then they'd kissed and now he was pretty determined to have more of those kisses in his future. But still... Maybe he could sneak out while Harry went to the loo or something.  
So he waited. And stared at Potter, while he tried to figure out the best course of action, trying not to move or breathe too loud.   
Harry had changed out of his attractive clothes into soft, ugly pants he remembered Muggles supposedly wore while sweating and a ratty old Chudley Cannons shirt that was an affront to good taste and people with eyesight. However, his cock insisted, that this was a Very Good Look, because Harry looked like The Morning After. He was reading a thin book with non-moving images and eating something pink and weirdly chewy, gleefully stretching the foamy gum with his teeth before tearing off a piece. 

He looked _comfortable_ and entirely unbothered by the fact that Draco was supposedly sleeping next to him, as though-

Draco _really_ didn’t want to leave. If he shut out the hysterical voice in his head insisting that he’d ruined it all, he could see that Harry had come to him, after carefully thinking things through. 

And now they were in bed together and Harry was… domestic.

Harry didn’t know yet that Draco was awake, so he had time to prepare for their next interaction. There was no Pepper Up Mishap confusing him anymore, so he’d be able to talk without getting distracted by base things like Harry’s soft lips or his warm hands. And he very much planned to do some talking before engaging in lustful acts again. A short talk, hopefully. There was probably no way he could fix his undoubtedly mussed up hair without Harry noticing, but he could make sure that there were no traces of saliva around his mouth. Not that he _ ever _ drooled in his sleep!

There were several possible options to make his presence known and he needed to choose just the right one to show that he was happy to be here and definitely unbothered by the circumstances that had put him there.  


_ “You get off with someone just once and they ditch the fancy clothing, figures.” _

_ “Now that you’ve got me in your bed - what are you going to do about it?” _

_ "Let's talk and then let's fuck." _

 

Just as he opened his mouth to deliver the perfect line, he was distracted by Harry’s soft laughter at something in his picture book. 

“Hey,” was all that came out of his mouth instead. Already things were going awry. He sat up and tried to nonchalanty smooth his shirt and his hair.  


 Harry’s smile didn’t falter at all as he turned his head towards Draco, instead, it seemed to get even brighter. 

 “You’re awake!” Harry carelessly threw his picture book across the room and Draco cringed as he saw several pages folding in awkward ways when it landed on a chair that was already draped in a disturbing amount of clothes.

“Well. Yes.” There appeared to be something lodged in his throat, making his voice about 46% less smooth than he’d like. “I’ve had a busy week, so…”

 “... so you subsisted solely on coffee and sugar, ditching sleep until you passed out in my arms?” Harry’s smirk was entirely too self-satisfied for someone able to do magic and still sporting several stains on his clothes. 

 “My assistant talks too much.” 

 “What were you busy with? Beth said she was excited to see me, because it’d been a very slow week.” 

Why was he not surprised Potter had already charmed his assistant? He felt heat creeping into his cheeks, not only because he was annoyed but because images of what exactly he’d been busy with flashed through his mind.

“Just because my store has been a bit quiet, doesn’t mean there weren’t intricate potions to brew that required all of my attention. Of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that, considering your abysmal performance at school.” He hoped his disdainful eyebrow raise would distract Potter from his flushed face.

“Ah, is that so.” Harry flashed him a dazzling grin, entirely too unaffected by Draco’s eyebrows this early in their… anything. “I don’t remember you complaining about my  _ performance _ earlier.”

“I would hardly classify that as ‘performance’.” Draco refused to avoid Harry’s gaze, even though some parts of his body were definitely flushed by now. “It was over before any real performing could be done.”

“Yeah.” Harry scooted closer on the bed until their shoulders were almost touching. Draco drew in a deep breath as Harry’s eyes moved over his body with intent, teeth digging into his lower lip and giving Draco  _ ideas _ . “Yeah, we should… do more…”

 Draco did his own looking-over of Harry’s body, only to have his eyes get glued to Harry’s crotch, because…

 “Those pants of yours are _indecent!_ ” The grey fabric practically _clung_ to Harry’s cock. A clear outline that showed it was already fattening up, looking very much as though a hand or a mouth should be around it and thus it should be understandable that Draco’s voice might have sounded like the old witch who’d come into his shop a few weeks ago and was very (loudly) outraged about the fact that _Dragon’s Draughts_ had a _Bodily Pleasures_ section. (Her loss! Draco’s lube was the best one on the market - smooth, edible, temperature, colour and flavour - all adjustable… Incomparable!)

Harry stared wordlessly at Draco for a bit - or he assumed, because he was not able to look anywhere but at Harry’s INDECENT crotch - before letting out one of his snorts that quickly turned into full out laughter.

“It’s just my trackies… they’re comfy!”

“I can  _ see _ how comfy you are!” Harry had the audacity to widen his legs under Draco’s appalled and very intrigued gaze. “I hope you’re not wearing that around people!  _ Other  _ people, I mean.”

“Around you is fine?” Draco finally managed to lift his eyes from the cloth-clad cock, only to find Harry’s happy grin and his darkened eyes equally arousing. 

“It’s tolerable, I suppose.”

“Mhm, or I can take them off, if you’d prefer that.”

“Yes,” Draco’s mouth replied before his brain understood what was happening. Luckily, it finished processing just before Harry could actually start taking off his blasted ‘tracky’, hands already at his waistband. “I mean, _no._ Don’t. Not yet.”

Honestly, someone should hand Draco a medal for his heroic restraint. Order of Merlin, Second Class would be appropriate, because his endeavour was certainly ‘beyond the ordinary’. It seemed unlikely that Harry would rise to the occasion though, considering his exaggerated pout. Draco took a deep breath, put on his best I’m Talking About Business face and strategically adjusted the blanket a little bit to cover any part of his that might have begun responding to the entirety of Harry Potter.

“We have to talk. I was… easily distracted earlier. But we  _ should _ talk about some things first.”

Harry frowned and opened his mouth, clearly ready to prostet before thinking better of it and nodding. “The List?”

“Yes. May… may I see it?” He didn’t really  _ want _ to. Didn’t want to see how much or, even worse, how  _ little _ about Draco’s concerns and fears Harry had been able to predict. With  _ Hermione Granger’s _ help, apparently. Harry looked as uncomfortable as Draco felt about the whole thing, but if this was actually not all a dream Draco was having because he was in a magically induced coma after a terrible potions accident, then some uncomfortable, ugly issues _needed_ to be addressed.

“Yeah… alright.” Harry sighed and rubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew in the process. Draco couldn’t help a fond smile from forming at the sight. “Are you hungry?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you slept quite a bit. I made some pasta earlier, you’re probably hungry. You can read The List while I get it and then... “

“You made me dinner?”

“Well, it was for me as well, but… why are you looking at me like that? I’m a decent cook, don’t worry! You can ask-” 

Draco grabbed Harry’s face in his hands and planted a thorough kiss on his mouth. At first, Harry moved his lips because he tried to finish his sentence and then he eagerly kissed back. Which was when Draco realised that he’d just lost all claim on that Order of Merlin and pulled back. 

“You’re sending quite the mixed signals, you know!” Harry didn’t actually sound upset, so it was easy for Draco to ignore him.

“Potter, go get that list and my food and then you better fucking have reasonable answers to my concerns, so I can take off those  _ ridiculous _ pants of yours and suck your cock!”

Harry made a very satisfying sound between a whine and a moan, held out his left hand and wandlessly Accio’d something from his Clothes Chair. 

“Sounds like a plan! Good plan!” Harry was slightly breathless and all in all, Draco thought that despite some setbacks, the whole Keeping On Top Of Things and Having The Upper Hand went way better for him this time around. “Here, The List. Hermione wrote it, so it should be easy to read. Okay, I’ll get your food. Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!”

Harry pressed a folded piece of parchment in Draco’s hand, pressed a quick kiss to Draco’s cheek and then gracelessly stumbled out of his bed and hastily left the room.

And Draco was alone. In Harry’s bed. With The List. 

It looked innocuous enough, lying neatly folded in his hand. He didn’t quite know what to expect so it was difficult to prepare himself. He did his best anyway, trying to ignore the sounds coming from presumably the kitchen, and unfolded the parchment with slightly shaking fingers.

He  _ wasn’t _ prepared.

* * *

 

**Worries Draco Malfoy Could Have About Dating Harry Potter - And Why It's Okay  
**

  * Reactions From Wizarding World   
_\-- > Harry has dealt with their attention (good&bad) all his life and is ready to deal with this too but understands if Draco wants to date in secret at first    _  
  

  * Doesn’t think Harry’s feelings are more than sth fleeting and that he will break up once things become difficult  
\--> _Harry’s clearly in love with him_  
  

  * The Death Eater thing  
\--> _Complicated explanation too long for this; Harry says this is something between them and he still wants to be with Draco, everyone else can “fuck kindly off”_  
  

  * The Weasleys and their reaction  
\--> _Ron, Ginny and George already know, everyone else will come around_  
  

  * Is Harry willing to see Draco’s mother  
\--> _Maybe on her birthday or something_  
  

  * Consequences for Draco & his business if they break up  
\--> _“We won’t break up!” - Harry_  
“Will use contacts at Prophet & Ministry to control the aftermath, make clear it’s Harry’s fault if necessary (unless Draco breaks Harry’s heart and then he’s had it coming)” - Hermione  
  

  * Harry’s refusal to wear clothes that fit him well because he is insecure about his body  
\--> _Hermione’s working on it_  




* * *

 

 

Draco had expected many things but not… this was… it was incredibly _thoughtful_ and _personal_ and _considerate._ In his hands, he held definitive proof that Harry was thinking about the future, _their_ future and willing to do things and… The shaking spread from his fingers up his arms and to his heart but he held the tiny paper in an iron grip, because… it meant the world. His vision became hazy and he had the terrible feeling it was because tears were welling up in his eyes. Random words were echoing in his brain and he felt about 20 emotions at once and yet the one thing… through everything, there was one sentence he kept coming back to, that burrowed itself in Draco’s heart:  _ Harry’s clearly in love with him. _

He couldn’t say for how long he kept staring at The List, he only knew that he was certainly still a crying mess when Harry cleared his throat and Draco had to look at him, standing in the door with a fucking plate of delicious smelling pasta on a dinner tray.

“You’re such a bastard.”

Harry smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought they'd have fucked by now, but their feelings are getting in the way.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was surprisingly decent enough to make a huge statement about having to use the loo after he placed the tray full of pasta over Draco's lap. Considering Potter's usual lack of manners and etiquette, Draco was impressed. When Harry returned from his bathroom adventure because he “shouldn't have drank that third mug of tea”, Draco was already almost halfway through his dinner and pretty confident that his face showed no evidence of ever having felt any emotion at all. 

However, Harry continued to awkwardly hover in the doorway, which just signaled that he had a  _ reason _ to be awkward and it annoyed Draco immensely. 

“If I'm eating pasta in your bed like a very slovenly or sick person, the least you can do is to join me and not just stand and stare and make it weird.” Draco carefully took a bite, chewed the appropriate amount of times and swallowed, while frowning and Harry. “It's basic etiquette, honestly.”

“There's rules for eating dinner in bed? “ Harry laughed and finally unstuck his shoulder from the doorway, and then sat down cross-legged on the bed, facing Draco. Probably to better watch him eat, the absolute buffoon. 

“No, because no self-respecting person would do that. “

“So you-”

“I'm merely being polite and adhering to local customs.”

“Is it  _ really  _ polite if you’re rubbing my face in my faux pas?“

“How else are you going to learn? You should feel honoured that I’ve decided to share my wisdom with you,” Draco grandly declared between bites. He was rather proud that his ‘holding a polite conversation over dinner without actually talking with your mouth full’ skills were still exceptional. He didn’t know why being around Harry made him play up his arrogant, posh pureblood persona or why it felt easy and fun instead of awkward and guilt-inducing, and he  _ really _ didn’t know why Harry seemed to find it hilarious but he was going to just go with it and enjoy his pasta. “This tastes pretty decent, by the way.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Harry  _ did _ seem very pleased about that.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”   


“I already had a plate earlier. I have my Percys, anyway.”   
  
“Is that another Muggle thing?”

Potter held up the pink bag of the weird gummy things he’d been eating earlier and then shoved one in his mouth, before grinning at Draco.

“Teishts good. Y’shud try’un.”

Instead of being disgusted by this disgusting spectacle, Draco was horrified to feel a fond smile trying to force its way into his face. Unacceptable. 

He frowned at Harry to signal that he disapproved of his lack of manners, even if his heart wasn't in it, and then continued to eat his dinner. 

After he carefully chewed and swallowed the last bite, he put down the fork, spelled the dishes clean and then Harry took the tray and simply put it down on the floor instead of bringing it back to the kitchen. And then… 

For a few moments, they simply sat next to each other on the bed, not looking at each other. Draco distinctly remembered that he'd told Harry that he'd suck his cock but that was before he'd _ cried _ about the list, and before Harry knew that Draco knew that Harry was “obviously in love with him.” He knew the proper protocol for a lot of things but there wasn’t any on how to properly initiate a cocksucking after an emotional outburst. But there should be!

“So, uh, was there… Anything… missing on the list?”

Draco finally chanced a look at Harry to find him intently staring at him while chewing his lower lip. 

“It was… ah… I think it covered a decent amount of issues.” A tiny smile appeared on Harry's face and he leaned in closer to Draco. It would be easy to take that invitation… Harry’s hand moved forward and was about to land on his thigh and there was no doubt as to where this was going. Draco adjusted his position so that Harry’s hand landed on his knee instead. Still dangerous territory but not lethal. Hopefully. “You should have warned me, however. It’s… A matter I could stand to spend some time deliberating. It’s important-”   
  
“Is that why you disappear every time we interact?”

“Excuse me?”    
  
“Whenever it’s just the two of us, you run away after a little while. At the pub… that time at Pansy’s party... “

“What are you even talking about, Potter. Frankly, I don’t even remember you being at that party.” This was a lie. Draco had been painfully aware of Harry’s presence, as usual, as always. And that night, Harry had worn a thin, black shirt that turned see-through in a certain light and that had happened right in front of Draco and he’d had to get away from there.

“See, I used to think that you simply found me bloody insufferable but that’s obviously not the case.” Harry looked awfully smug, his hand ever so slowly inching up Draco’s thigh. Fine, Draco would allow him a few more inches, he could handle that. “Now I think, it’s because you like me  _ so much _ that you can’t handle it and that’s why you’re hightailing it.”   
  
“Pr… Preposterous!” Harry flashed him a large, happy grin and leaned in even closer, knee brushing against Draco’s, sending a spark of pleasure up his spine. 

“I think you’re enamoured by me, charmed off your unbearably adorable patterned socks.” Harry quickly moved his hand down Draco's leg and then pulled up his trousers to reveal Draco’s socks. They depicted Boggsley the very scared, terribly afraid Boggart in some of his most iconic forms and he’d forgotten that he’d put them on this morning. They were his favourite socks and he usually didn’t wear them in his workshop, because he didn’t want to risk them getting destroyed by a potions spill.

“Don’t be absurd.” Harry stroked a finger over the sliver of exposed skin above Draco’s sock and the casual intimacy of the gesture went right to his heart, and his cock. “Adorable? I’ll let you know this is a…  _ aah _ … limited edition and… “

“Please tell me you’re wearing the matching underpants.”

Before Draco could tell him that of course not, who does Potter think he is - they only sold socks, mugs and aprons, and if Draco had one of each that was none of anybody’s business - Harry suddenly moved and was now straddling Draco’s thighs, practically sitting in his lap. Draco had no choice but to rest his hands on Harry’s thighs and annoyingly his terrible trackers were incredibly soft and his fingers kept stroking… the fabric, not Harry’s legs!

“And what do you think you're doing? “

“Hi.” Harry smirked at him and his fingers started playing with the hair at Draco's neck. Clearly Potter had decided, by himself, as usual, that they were Done with talking and were now going to start touching each other. Draco tried to think of a reason to not simply give in to Harry, but couldn’t conjure one. In fact, it would only be the polite thing to do as a guest, to mirror his hosts mood.  _ Harry’s _ mood led him to press a kiss to Draco’s jaw and Draco groaned. Because he was polite.

"Are we…" Draco’s voice came out as rough as if he’d already sucked Harry’s cock; he cleared his throat.

"Yes." Harry laughed against his neck. His fingers slid to the front of Draco's shirt and began unbuttoning it, while he continued to pepper Draco’s throat with kisses.

"You should… Take off your shirt. It's offensive." 

Harry looked down as if he didn't know what he was wearing (not too unlikely with this oaf), snorted and then gracelessly pulled his shirt over his head and threw it across the room, as he did with everything apparently. Draco didn’t even get to have a good look at shirtless Potter, because he went right back to his task of unbuttoning Draco. Goofy smile on face and all. 

"You keep laughing. What could possibly be so funny, Potter?" 

Harry slowed his ministrations, almost successful in baring Draco's chest, and looked at him as though he were an adorable yet low-intelligence Crup puppy. 

"Because I'm happy, you idiot." 

"Ah, yes, I suppose that…" That'd explain why Draco's lips kept twitching and smirking, too. He simply wasn't used to what this felt like and so hadn't been able to correctly identify Harry's mood.  _ Happy _ … Well. That was new. Terrifying.

He had no trouble identifying the emotion playing over Harry’s face as he finally managed to push Draco's shirt open, eager fingers running across Draco's skin, only to stop in their tracks as Harry noticed the thin scars scattered over his chest and stomach. They were hard to spot, blending in with his pale skin. 

"...I'm sorry." 

“None of that, Potter.” Without further ado, Draco unbuttoned his sleeves and took off his shirt. Unlike Harry, he sent it towards the clothes chair with a flick of his wand and with another, it neatly folded itself. He allowed himself to feel smug about that for a fleeting moment, before he held out his left arm for Harry to study instead of his chest.

"See, I actually prefer the marks on my chest. It's more fun to be reminded of what a tosser you are, than…" 

Harry gently took his wrist, lifted his arm to his mouth and then pressed his lips to Draco’s pulse point. He wanted to pull his hand out of Harry’s grasp but he was frozen in place, not having expected this reaction. Draco wondered whether Harry could feel his anxiety rapidly thumping against his lips. Harry wrapped both of his hands around Draco’s forearm and he let out a shuddering breath, eyes suddenly burning. _ No one _ touched him there. People didn’t touch him much anyway these days, but his Dark Mark… No one. Not even himself. Especially not himself.

“Why…” 

“Why not?” Harry’s fingers tightened even more, just shy of being painful. 

“You don’t have to.” Draco’s voice sounded pleading, though he didn’t know what he was pleading for. For Harry to let go? To never let go?

“But I want to.” With that, Harry leaned forward until Draco’s hand was pressed against his chest and then he was kissing him. As soon as their lips met, it was as though Harry had lifted a Body-Bind Curse off Draco and he’d regained control of his body. And all his body wanted to do was kiss Harry, to pour  _ everything  _ he felt for him into the kiss. He was afraid that there wasn’t enough of Harry to receive all of his feelings, but Harry surrendered his mouth to Draco and took everything he had to give.

Harry tasted sweet in an artificial fruity way and Draco marveled at it until he remembered the ‘Percy's’. He chased the taste with his tongue and made a mental note to find out how his favorite candies would taste in Potter's mouth. 

Before he knew it, he was lying on top of Harry, touching him, stroking, kissing, licking, biting. He was determined to worship every inch him. He hadn't gotten a good look before, so he remedied that as he made his way down Harry’s body. He watched how Harry's nipples hardened as he gently closed his teeth around them. He looked at the oval scar in the middle of his chest, not really hidden by the light dusting of hair, tracing it with his tongue. 

It was, of course, a dramatic looking scar. A precise, easily recognizable shape, because Harry simply could not have randomly shaped, ugly, gnarly scars like the rest of them, oh no. They had to be clear signs of how he'd went through the depths of danger to save them all or at least hint at a quiet, stubborn endurance of suffering that twisted Draco's stomach.  _ I must not tell lies.  _ He looked at Harry's belly button, fascinated how it moved and contorted as Harry's stomach twitched when Draco twisted his fingers in the pubic hair that peeked out of the tracker pants. Harry's hands were tangled in Draco's hair, twitching and pulling more than stroking. Harry clearly wanted to grab, probably also to  _ push _ but seemed to still be able to hold himself back. 

He considered teasing Harry while he sucked at the skin over his hip bone, determined to leave a mark. He could mouth at the fabric until it was soaked with spit and precome, until Harry was writhing and pleading. Make him come undone as a punishment for being everything Draco has ever wanted. 

"Draco… _ Please. _ " 

Well, that part was taken care of. If he already had a writhing and pleading Potter, he might as well treat himself.

Without further ado, he freed Harry's cock and licked along the length of it. 

" _ Fuck…  _ Draco…" Harry sounded wrecked and Draco smirked up at him, and then got wrecked himself. Harry's face was flushed, his lips plump, pupils blown and he was unguarded and eager and wanted this, wanted  _ Draco, _ and Harry was right - Draco  _ couldn't  _ handle it. This time, instead of extracting himself from the situation, he charged forward and took Harry's cock into his mouth. 

Despite his intention being to make Harry come undone, Draco soon got lost himself in the sensations. The steady slide of Harry’s hot cock in his mouth. The slightly bitter taste of him. Harry panting and muttering nonsense above him. His hips undulating, trying to buck into him despite his steady grip. Harry’s musky smell. Draco’s own hard cock, still painfully trapped in his trousers. Harry saying his name. Harry.  _ Harry. _

"Draco, ah… I'm going to… Stop, please." Despite his words, Harry's hips kept moving as if his cock was chasing Draco's lips, as he pulled off with a satisfying pop and raised one eyebrow at Harry. 

"And would that be a problem?" His voice was rough and he bit his lip, before he squeezed at the base of Harry's cock and then licked across the slit.

"I want to… ah… When…" Harry reached out with one hand and something came flying into his hand. He'd wandlessly and wordlessly Accio’ed lube and was now sheepishly holding it out for Draco. And it wasn't just any lube, oh no… He was holding in his hands a jar of  _ Lubricious Lube _ .

"You bought my lube." He really couldn't say why it was  _ this _ out of everything that took away his last remaining bit of doubt. But right now, it seemed ridiculous that Harry wouldn't want him.  

"Yeah…" 

"Jar's pretty empty." Draco got up, took off his trousers and pants in one motion, sucking in air, as his cock was finally freed and knelt between Harry's legs, taking the jar and scooping out a generous dollop. Then he wrapped his hands around Harry's cock again and stroked until everything was smooth and slick and Harry was whimpering and fucking upward into his grip. "It's a good product, isn’t it." 

"A bloody…  _ Fuck _ … bloody... good product. Shit... Please..." 

"Mhmm… Were you thinking of me when you used it?" Draco scooped out a bit more and then leaned over Harry to put the jar on the nightstand, using the opportunity to lean down and whisper in his ear as his right hand slid between Harry's legs and he slowly began circling his hole. "Were you pretending it was my hands touching you, when you pulled yourself off?" 

Harry's legs fell open, as did his mouth, a low whine escaping. 

"Yeah…" 

"Were you thinking of  _ fucking _ me, pressing your cock into me and taking me?" Draco pressed one fingertip inside Harry and they both groaned at the sensation. "Or did you imagine it was my cock opening you up?" 

Harry blindly pressed his face against Draco's neck, arching into him until Draco's finger was in to the knuckle. 

"Fuck…  _ Yes. _ "

"’Yes what, Harry? What were you picturing while you came all over yourself?" His finger picked up speed and Harry's hands grabbed his hair again. 

"Bloody… Both.  _ Anything. _ Everything." Draco laughed as Harry pulled back and threw a furious look at him. "Is this really the moment you bloody choose to finally call me Harry, you fucking ridiculous, stupid wan-" 

Draco added a second finger and whispered the command that cooled down the lube and Harry keened, so very beautifully. 

"With my fingers in your arse? Yes, I do believe it's the perfect moment."

He decided that Harry needed more kissing and less talking, and continued to open him up as he kissed him until they were both panting and Harry's stomach was sticky with precome. 

" Take off… your bloody pants and bloody fuck me already, Malfoy, come on, I need your fucking prick in me right now." 

A part of him, the part that had always wanted to rile Harry up for a reason he had been refusing to name until recently, wanted to deny Harry now until he  _ begged _ and maybe even then not give him what he wanted. But now, now that he could actually have Harry and he trusted him to do this… There wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t give to him.

He slathered the excess lube over his own cock, lined himself up and slowly pushed into the slick, tight heat. He’d barely breached him when he faltered, hands coming to rest next to Harry's head so he could support himself, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. With shaking hands he looked down at Harry, heart tight and overflowing. As he stared, helpless and slightly embarrassed, Harry simply reached for him, one warm arm wrapped around his neck, the other across his back. And then Harry canted his hips and Draco slid all the way in, Harry hot and tight around him, and he could do little else than press his face into Harry's shoulder, groaning helplessly. 

"I've got you, it's alright, you feel so good, Draco, it's so good…" 

And Draco began to move.   
  
Nothing could have prepared him for this. Anything he could’ve ever imagined paled to this, to how Harry felt against him, around him, how it felt to be  _ inside _ him. Every time he pulled back, Harry tightened around his cock as if he didn’t want to let him go. Every time he drove back in, Harry arched into him and moaned or breathed his name or dug his nails into his back. Draco felt delirious, the pleasure growing so large that it was painful, expanding from his cock and pressing against his skin, threatening to tear him apart. He was hovering on the edge of  _ too much _ , heart trying to escape his chest, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it.

“Harry, I… I can’t…”

Harry’s lips found his and his arms wrapped tight around him once more, holding him together, and suddenly it wasn’t too much anymore. It was right, it was what he needed, what he’d wanted for so long. 

He sped up his thrusts and wrapped one hand around Harry’s cock, muttering things against his mouth that he forgot as soon as he said them. Harry answered in kind, the meaning of his words not as important as the feeling of them wrapping around his heart, encouraging him, making him move faster, harder, until he came with a shout, grinding his hips against Harry as he filled him with his seed. Desperately trying to hold on to consciousness, Draco’s hand on Harry’s cock sped up, still grinding against him until Harry too peaked and came over Draco’s fingers and his own stomach.

For a second they stared at each other, both panting heavily, sweaty and sticky. Long enough for a familiar sinking feeling to make its way into Draco’s stomach. But then Harry gave a breathy laugh and pulled him back down to press a gentle kiss against his lips, kept kissing him as Draco awkwardly pulled out, kept kissing him as Draco collapsed partly on top of him, kept kissing him as Draco whispered a cleaning charm.

Harry kept kissing him.


End file.
